Rediscovering the Good: or, The Black Eyed Peas Made Me Think??

I've been hearing a lot of the Black Eyed Peas at work lately; my boss is convinced their new album is really good. Undoubtedly, the quartet is one of the most over-exposed pop groups of the last several years, and under normal circumstances I would advise against taking the time to think intelligently about any of their songs, as this could result in a wide range of side-effects from self-inflicted violence to loss of faith. However, a particular section of the song, 'One Tribe,' did stand out to me and I thought I'd throw out a few thoughts:

Compositionally, the lyrics of the song are absolute rubbish, but I was intrigued by one passage which chanted:

Forget about all that evil, evil / That evil that they feed ya, feed ya / Remember that we're one people

I think in a lot of ways The Black Eyed Peas can be seen as representative of (or at least, their success can be seen as a result of) our current over-stimulated, hyper-consumptive, ultra-modern culture. A scary thought, I know, but let's run with it.

It is interesting to me that even in the shallowest cultural outlets of our society, there is this acknowledgment of the existence of evil; and beyond acknowledgment, a condemnation of it. My mind also jumps back to the foreign policy speeches of President George W. Bush, which were not shy about pointing out exactly who and what was evil.

I often hear (and am peeved by) individuals within the Church who, in pontificating vaguely about the destructive influence of (what they call) post-modernism, talk about how the advent of post-modernism has resulted in a moral relativism which causes people to think that anything a person does or believes is 'okay for them.' The essential claim is that there is no longer any recognized concept of sin, evil, etc. I think in rare cases, this may be true for a very small segment of society. However, I think if we look at cultural outlets such as the Black Eyed Peas song in question, we can see that the rise of post-modernism--rising out of modernity--has actually had the opposite effect.

After witnessing widespread, systematic, and cataclysmic violence resulting from the radical culmination of modern ideals, post-modernism, if nothing else, is keenly and tragically aware of the presence and effects of evil in our world.

It seems to me that while much of the Church--at least its conservative or evangelical (I hate that term) branch--is focused on harping at those outside it about what is Bad, what they really need to be teaching (practically and theoretically) is what is Good. I want to stray as far as I can away from talk of 'relevance.' But I do think what we are looking at is a disconnect between the biggest problems facing our world, versus the issues much of the Church is preoccupied with; we are not answering the right questions.

If we look at the work of post-modern philosophy, or the music of the Black Eyed Peas, foreign policy rhetoric, or the face of our culture, there is much agreement on the existence of evil; we see it in racism, warfare, poverty, etc. However, beyond this, what we are struggling to uncover is the existence of good, or at least an agreed upon universal sense of the Good which is more than giving to charities, or supporting local artists. For example, while George W. Bush was very clear on what was evil, he was seemingly very confused about what types of actions or inactions against it were good.

People do not need to be convinced that building up walls between ourselves is wrong; what we are desperately searching for is an answer to how to tear them down and why there is meaning in doing so. What does it truly mean to be 'one people' as the song says?

I am intrigued by the prospect of the Church preaching a radical sense of Christ's gospel message which can perhaps be summed up as, 'Turn from evil and do good!' Furthermore, what he chose to elaborate on at great length was what exactly is the good we are to do (and who gives us the power to do it, and especially why--but that's a topic for another time). When Christ took up John the Baptist's message of repentance, admission of guilt was only half of the equation. It seems the much bigger half (I'm sure there's some crazy mathematical way to show such a thing to be possible) is learning to embody and live out the life we turn towards. I am not saying we should do away with talk of sin, but I think once we have a clearer conception of our task as image-bearers to be salt and light, imitators of a perfect God, and heirs of a Kingdom, specific examples of the evil already recognized in general terms will be brought into stark contrast on their own.

War According to the Artful Dodger

After getting sidetracked for a while, I recently resumed reading Oliver Twist. One passage in particular stood out to me as I read it several nights ago, and I thought it would be worth sharing.

To set this up, the pure and innocent character of Oliver is in the midst of being indoctrinated into a band of young pickpockets headed by the cunning and self-interested Fagin. One of Fagin's most gifted boys, the artful Dodger, is attempting to help Oliver overcome his intrinsic moral objections to adopting a criminal lifestyle:

'If you don't take pocket-handkechers and watches,' said the Dodger, reducing the conversation to the level of Oliver's capacity, 'some other cove will; so that the coves that lose 'em will be all the worse, and you'll be all the worse too, and nobody half a ha'p'orth the better, except the chaps wot gets them--and you've just as good a right to them as they have.'

Fagin commends this explanation and directs the impressionable Oliver to take the Dodger's word for it; he being a boy who "understands the catechism of his trade."

Within the larger context of the book, I think what Dickens wants us to be aware of are the underhanded, often imperceptible ways in which society is taught to accept and even perpetuate various forms of violent exploitation (particularly in this book, systematized, class-based poverty). Taking this a step further (and I'm sure this will roll a few eyeballs belonging to some of you who think I sound like a broken record) I couldn't help but think while reading this how similar the Dodger's enticement is to many contemporary justifications for war.

What the Dodger has successfully done is create an argument which appeals to both the altruistic and the selfish aspects of human nature. People are going to get robbed; that is a fact of life. If indeed people must be robbed, wouldn't they be better off in the end if a good person like you did the robbing? There's no telling what a very bad person might do to the poor soul in the process of robbing them. Furthermore, not only will the person getting robbed be better off if you do the robbing, but you will better your own situation in the process. Everyone wins!

It is worth adding here that in a later conversation with Bill Sykes, Fagin reveals that he sees great promise in the future criminal career of Oliver (a career which will almost strictly profit Fagin himself). However, the key would be to entice the boy to commit his first robbery; then and only then would Oliver fall securely into Fagin's pocket. There he could develop into the next Bill Sykes (but conveniently less strong-willed), who, in addition to burglary, would not shy away from taking a person's life if he saw fit.

I admonish the reader to seek a deeper sensitivity to the sly way in which our societies are sold a proverbial bill of goods relating to matters of war. What the Dodger does not disclose to Oliver is that one's perceived righteousness in carrying out an immoral act does not make the action any less evil. This I believe includes supposed "necessary" evils, as well as those which seem "natural" or inherent to our present reality as robbery in this case was made out to be.

I also found it interesting that Fagin refers to the Dodger's explanation as being an illustration of the "catechism" of the criminal trade; the term catechism being typically used in a religious sense to describe an outline of the beliefs within a given faith. This is another aspect of the way we think about war which I think we need to be keenly aware of. In accepting the rationale for--thus necessarily, acts of and loss of innocent life resulting from--war and warfare, we are not simply making a one-time decision or casting our vote for a single issue; we are choosing to adopt an entire system of belief.

We must also seek an awareness of the principalities (to use the old Biblical term) into whose control we place ourselves when we affirm the tenets of such a "catechism." In many cases, one well-intentioned act can have far-reaching repercussions which place control of our lives (as well as the lives of countless others) in the hands of very dark forces that seek only to desensitize us and further justify increasingly abominable acts.

Questions About Consitutionalism

Over the last several years, I have noticed a pointed rise in the popularity of Constitutionalism. To be fair, I want to note the necessary distinction between what I've seen to be two distinct brands of the movement: The first is Constitutionalism as a comprehensive political stance. I see this platform as being traditionally positive in that its impetus is an affirmation of what they interpret to be a strict adherence to the verbage of the constitution. This is in contrast to the second brand which resides within certain conservative Sean-Hannity-like circles who nominally describe themselves as Constitutionalists when it is politically advantageous to do so (generally during important Supreme Court goings-on such as the Sotomayor hearings), while conversely discarding it altogether when they see fit (generally during times of widespread panic, where it can easily be defended as an action which will protect the nation, for example in support of the Patriot Act). Their use of the term 'Constitutionalism' is typically negative, in the sense that it is almost always invoked when painting themselves as the victims of oppression, e.g. "They want to tax us more and change our health care!"

Obviously, the latter type requires no extended critique, as its absurdity is blatant. (Though I do want to clarify that the absurdity lies only in the use of the term at hand. The political stance is, I believe, as valid as any other.) I do want to briefly address the former, which to me, is very interesting. As previously noted, I do find the comprehensive nature of Constitutionalism admirable. Ironically, I think there are intriguing parallels to Marxism in this regard. At any rate, I think the best way to outline my critiques of and questions about Constitutionalism will be to pose a few broad questions and leave them open for response.

* Why the Constitution? Why not the Articles of Confederation, On Walden Pond, or the Qur'an?

* What exactly is a 'pure' interpretation of the Constitution? Is such an interpretation even attainable for people who are by nature contextual, and carry with them a variety of background assumptions?

* At its root, does the Constitution imply the freedom of future generations to step away from it?

Politweets

The disputed 2009 Iranian presidential election sparked an unprecedented amount of U.S. media coverage, which of course led to a curious amount of attention in pop culture. As I basked in the warm glow of various electronic screens, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense that something was awry within the bombardment of images of, chatter about, and support for the ensuing political demonstrations.

Time for reflection has helped me get closer to uncovering what I couldn’t put my finger on before: the benefit of devoting mass amounts of media coverage to the Iranian demonstrations, and the specific type of attention it was getting in the United States, would ultimately have nothing to do with the state of democracy in Iran.

As they often do, a few words from Slavoj Zizek ring true for me and seem to speak precisely to such a phenomenon. Describing the techno-savvy, business-minded, yet cause-sensitive people who are at the forefront of capitalism’s recent evolution into a non-self-perpetuating (i.e. not driven by greed alone) system which is very good at making lots of money by trying to care about Stuff at the same time, Zizek notes their odd political ethos by sarcastically pointing out the way they have reworked Marx's observation about the steam engine:

What are all the protests against global capitalism worth in comparison with the invention of the internet?

We are apparently a step even further now, for the overwhelming sense I had when the protests in Iran and the coverage of them were at their peak was that the message we were intended to receive had little to do with Iranian democracy; the real message was, “What is the struggle against totalitarianism worth in comparison with the onset of Twitter?”

Indeed, let’s ask ourselves who the winners of the whole ordeal were: the Iranian people? Certainly not, as their potentially flourishing democracy remains restrained by a totalitarian theocracy. The Iranian establishment? Obviously, Ahmadinejad will always look bad, but even Khamenei will find it hard to possibly look good after suppressing an opposition with very real concerns over the legitimacy of the election. Twitter? The company quickly discovered what the neo-capitalists have known all along, that nothing is as good for business as a humanitarian crisis. This is not to say that Twitter’s end-goal was to exploit the situation of the people of Iran. Nor am I suggesting that the awareness the Western world was allowed via Twitter was not beneficial in some way.

However, I think the subsequent inane Twitterization of everyday life we have seen since that time is evidence that the web site walked away with much gained. From inconsequential celebrities to legitimate news programs, Twitter has suddenly become some kind of proxy journalism; journalism being the institution formerly made up of professionals who sought the public good by seeking out first-hand, the developments society needed to be aware of, in order to bring about change.

It’s not that I find Twitter annoying and pointless (which I do), I just find this growing trend toward e-politics troubling. I remember during the last presidential election in our own country how often I heard facebook and MySpace group numbers being cited on the news. The advent of e-campaigns was the true focus, not political change.

Just as the internet boom failed to translate into deep political change in our own democracy, it is no surprise that we witnessed the same impotency in regards to Iran. While the people of Iran risked their physical well-being to take to the streets and demand to be heard, we in the U.S. failed to do the same. The Western media in general failed to move beyond the fact that Iranians were tweeting, and thus missed why they were doing it. I hope would-be activists in the U.S. soon realize that we can't tweet our way to a better future.

Race as Oppressive Social Construct?

Of late, I've become more and more interested in exploring the philosophy of race. After reading several essays by Cornel West--who for obvious reasons has a vested interest in the subject--and working extensively on theories concerning the identity of the Other in politics for my thesis, I continue to notice the complex ways in which a philosophy of race must necessarily be considered inextricable from a cultural theory of violence.

I'll admit that all these various ideas came crashing together very unacademically tonight as I watched The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson (which, by the way is the second best late night talk show behind Conan). During a chat with Corkie Roberts about the self-designated supremacy of the white male, Craig made the comment, "Do you know we just elected a black president?"

In light of the context of the conversation, I suddenly thought to myself, But, isn't Barack Obama as WHITE as he is BLACK?

The simple illustration of a man with a white mother and black father being labeled 'black' seems to me an indication that we are talking much more than ethnicity when we talk race. This ironically coincides with a book I had just started earlier today, "Violence" by Slavoj Zizek. In the introduction, Zizek writes, concerning necessary distinctions between various types of violence:

...Subjective and objective violence cannot be perceived from the same standpoint: subjective violence is experienced as such against the background of a non-violent zero level. It is seen as a perturbation of the "normal," peaceful state of things. However, objective violence is precisely the violence inherent to this "normal" state of things. Objective violence is invisible since it sustains the very zero-level standard against which we perceive something as subjectively violent. Systematic violence is thus something like the notorious "dark matter" of physics, the counterpart to an all-too-visible subjective violence. It may be invisible, but it has to be taken into account if one is to make sense of what otherwise seem to be "irrational" explosions of subjective violence.

We Americans are acutely aware of the disturbing volume of subjective violence perpetrated as a result of racial tensions. But, if we take Zizek's cultural theory and examine race in this light, I wonder if the imposition of race itself is the latent systematic act of violence, which, like dark matter, physically holds together our conceptions of peaceful racial normalcy (which, as we know is itself rife with various forms of objective political and economic violence). This ties into an earlier comment of Zizek's that:

...There is a more fundamental form of violence still that pertains to language as such, to its imposition of a certain universe of meaning.

The universe of meaning associated with being black is a universe I personally can observe but never experience or fully understand. However, there is commonality between it and my own racial universe of being white in that both, in my opinion, are violently imposed from without, rather than arising out of self-revelation.

Resulting from externally imposed racial identity, the impulse towards self-segregation is maddeningly more common than I think most people realize, and it's evident everywhere from the locations we choose to live, to the language we use to even talk about race. Imagine, for instance, a white immigrant from Johannesburg who chooses to call herself an "African-American." The term carries with it all of the associations and prejudices of the term 'black,' so I find it puzzling that it is often seen as being more politically correct. While racial identity makes us comfortable by drawing neat lines between us, these lines seem to be the very thing that must be examined and questioned if we are to understand and effectively act against the violence perpetrated because of them.

Returning to the example of our new president, we see this in his own profession of being a black man, in that this identity is entirely a result of experiences resulting from the larger system of racial prejudice and violence which has pre-defined him as 'black.'

So, again, I wonder if I'm way off in thinking that racial identity is itself violent. For the record, I think a 'color-blind' system is equally violent by imposing some sort of neutral identity, over a self-revealed one which would of course include skin color and resulting conceptions based on one's treatment because of it. Yet, behind segregation (self-imposed, or forced), behind prejudice, behind political and economic oppression, the ultimate act of violence seems to be defining who is black and who is white.